


Tethe'alla Lullaby

by mercy_angel_09



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Gen, Kratos is the most awkward parent ever, in sickness and in health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercy_angel_09/pseuds/mercy_angel_09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kratos finds himself in a hauntingly familiar situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tethe'alla Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic has been sitting on my hard drive - complete - for four years. About time I published it, right?

The day started as many others had.  The group traveling for the World Regeneration had woken up at the House of Guidance east of Asgard, ready to head to Luin to resupply on essential items that Asgard didn’t have.  Half way there, Lloyd became sluggish, not entirely unusual as he had a particularly bad habit of being over-excited at the beginning and quickly wearing himself out, and near the city’s entrance passed out.

Raine had given him a cursory once over, surprised at how hot his forehead was.  She proclaimed that he had fallen ill and that they would have to take a few days in Luin to allow him to recover.  Kratos, with some help from Raine and Colette, put Lloyd on Noishe’s back and carried him into the city, stopping at the doctor’s house to have Lloyd examined.

The doctor had only been vaguely concerned until Raine explained the symptoms in full.  He perked up considerably and then shooed everyone out of the examination room.

“I believe Lloyd is suffering from Umacy Fever.  It’s a particularly nasty virus that has the potential to be fatal,” the doctor explained.  Kratos fought to keep his cool, though it wasn’t too difficult as both Colette and Genis became hysterical and Raine paled considerably.  “You got him here quickly, which is good, but I don’t know what the prognosis is.”

“Someone should stay with him,” Raine said desperately.  “He shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Kratos offered, much to the surprise of everyone else.  “I had the fever in my youth.  I’m already immune to it.”

The doctor gave a brief nod of agreement.  “If you’re the only one who’s had it, I think it is best that you stay with him.  I’m going to assume that the rest of your group hasn’t had it.”

“They’re not from this area,” Kratos answered.  “The probability of them contracting the disease is rare.”

“That’s true,” Raine said as she looked at the door to Lloyd’s room wistfully.  “I want to stay near him, but I can’t risk becoming ill, and I can’t risk Colette or Genis’ heath either.”

“You stay with them,” Kratos said evenly.  “I have no problems staying with Lloyd.”

“Genis, Colette, let’s find an inn,” Raine said, ushering the protesting children out of the house.  She looked over her shoulder at Kratos, clearly wanting to say something but refraining at the very last moment.  She simply shook her head and followed the two out.

“I’ll set up a bedroll for you in his room so you don’t have to leave him,” the doctor said, heading towards a linen closet.  “You can go ahead and sit with him.  I would suggest stripping him down to his underclothes.  The fever will make him unbearably hot and we need to do all we can to keep his core body temperature down.”

“I understand,” Kratos said with a nod.  He quietly opened the door and slipped in, seeing that Lloyd was resting fitfully.  Approaching the bed, he waited to see what Lloyd’s reaction would be.  When the boy didn’t even acknowledge his presence, Kratos took it as a mixed blessing.  “Lloyd, I have to take most of your clothes off,” Kratos said softly as he slowly reached for the buttons on the teen’s suspenders.  “You have a very high fever and you’ll be too warm if you stay in your usual outfit.”

The dual swordsman didn’t answer, causing Kratos to sigh.  Of course he was completely passed out.  The seraphim set about to removing Lloyd’s clothing, his mind wandering back to fourteen years previous, when he had last helped the boy out of his clothing.  Lloyd, curious as ever, had decided to play in a mud puddle.  Anna had found it cute; Kratos had been thoroughly disgusted by the mess and had insisted on stripping the boy naked and then pouring several buckets of water over his head.

Lloyd had found the entire thing hilarious and had giggled the whole time.  As had Anna.  Only Kratos seemed to be the only one bothered by it.

Once Lloyd was down to his underclothes, a pair of undershorts and a black tank top, Kratos found a chair and pulled it up to the bedside.  No parent wanted to see their child sick, and for Kratos that was doubly true.  Moments later the doctor walked in with the aforementioned bedroll and some spare blankets.

“I apologize, not everything was where I remember putting it,” the doctor admitted sheepishly.  Once he placed his load on the floor, he walked to the bed and made a quick examination on Lloyd.  “Mmm, his fever seems to be holding steady for now, but Umacy Fever is unpredictable at best.  It could spike suddenly.”

“So what do we do?” Kratos asked quietly.

“I’ll bring up a bowl of water and some cloth.  If you don’t mind, mop his brow and his body.  The water should help cool his core temperature some,” the doctor explained. 

“Of course,” Kratos responded automatically.

Deciding that Kratos would sufficiently follow his orders, the doctor left to prepare the water.  When he returned, he saw that the man hadn’t moved, but continued to stare fixedly at the young man.

“So, are you two related?” the doctor asked nonchalantly as he placed the bowl of water and the cloth on the small table beside the bed.  At Kratos’s suddenly startled expression, the doctor chuckled.  “As a doctor I tend to see the underlying features of people.  You two have the same face shape, and I’m certain the same nose and eyes.”

“He has his mother’s eyes,” Kratos replied, his voice low.

“Ah, so you are related.  Brothers, perhaps?” the doctor said, trying to gauge Kratos’s age – and being off by about four thousand years.

“We’re related, but he doesn’t know it.  I wasn’t certain of it until a short while ago.  Actually,” Kratos said with a cynical chuckle, “I thought that he was dead until a short while ago.”

“Problems with the Desians?” the doctor guessed.

“That’s part of it,” Kratos replied, not offering up any more information.

Realizing that the man didn’t want to speak anymore on the topic, he smiled kindly at the seraphim.  “Well then, I’ll leave you to tend to him.  I’ll bring some more water up in a few hours,” the doctor said as he left the room.

Once he was alone, Kratos rose and went to his pack, fetching a small bowl from deep within.  Part of his guise as a wandering mercenary, Kratos had packed like he had been wandering his whole life, including a plate, a bowl, eating utensils and a wooden mug.  He didn’t think that they would be coming in handy at a time like this, though.

Scooping some of the water into his small bowl, Kratos quietly cast Icicle, and then dumped the hunks of ice into the main bowl.  Now that the water was cold instead of cool, Kratos dunked the cloth, wrung it out, and then placed it over Lloyd’s forehead.

The teen made a sound of mild discomfort, but his face soon relaxed.  A few moments later, Kratos repeated the action and continued to do so for the next two hours.  Occasionally he’d wipe the cloth along Lloyd’s arms and legs as well, hoping that the cool breeze that was wafting in from Lake Sinoa was helping to cool him down as well.

For three days the fever raged, and at first it seemed that Lloyd was going to make a quick recovery.  However the fever came back with a vengeance, and since then Colette and Genis had more or less moved into the small chapel that the Church of Martel operated out of, spending every waking moment praying to the goddess.  Raine had begun to question the residents of Luin about remedies to Umacy Fever, but was coming up with so many conflicting methods, she was stuck where she started.  Kratos only left Lloyd’s side a few times, to use the outhouse and bathe, and kept up his vigil by his son’s bed.

Fate was a cruel mistress indeed, to bring Lloyd back into his life only to take him away.

Kratos was dozing in the chair when the doctor came in to check in on Lloyd.  He clucked his tongue in disappointment, bringing Kratos back to full attention.  “How is he?” the seraphim asked, looking intently at the doctor.

The man sighed as he rubbed his temple.  “I’m afraid I have some bad news.  His fever has gotten worse since this morning.  Since it’s been rising steadily, I can only assume that he’ll die from the fever sometime tonight.”

Kratos’ eyes widened, but he said nothing.

“I’m very sorry.  Unfortunately, Umacy Fever is unpredictable.  There’s no rhyme or reason to whether or not someone survives or dies from it,” the doctor said softly.

“Thank you,” Kratos said softly as the doctor dismissed himself.  He looked down at Lloyd, who was lying on the bed completely flushed.  A fine sheen of sweat covered his body and his clothes were completely soaked through.  Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kratos repositioned himself, getting up from the chair so that he could sit on the bed with Lloyd.  He then carefully pulled his son into his lap and leaned his cheek against Lloyd’s damp hair.  “I’m sorry, Lloyd.  I wish I could have done more.”

With a soft sigh, Kratos began to rock back and forth, his mind wandering back to a similar experience nearly fourteen years before.  Lloyd had been a few months shy of his third birthday when he had come down with the flu.  Despite his and Anna’s best efforts, Lloyd’s condition steadily worsened until Kratos had been forced to admit defeat.  Anna had been devastated by the news and had cried herself to sleep.  Kratos had been unwilling to let his son suffer alone during his final moments so he had held the boy as he fussed in discomfort.  Hoping that Lloyd’s final moments would be pleasant, Kratos sang him an ancient lullaby, one that he had last sung to his nieces and nephews nearly four thousand years before. 

The song was ancient and in what was now called the Angelic Language, a song hoping for peace between Tethe’alla and Sylvarant.  It was popular throughout the whole world, though few people seemed to actually want what the song wished for.   However, it remained a popular lullaby, though more so in Tethe’alla than Sylvarant.

Lloyd had fallen asleep during the song, and Kratos had fallen asleep shortly after.

The next morning the seraphim awoke to someone tugging on his hair.  Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he focused on the tiny hand that happened to be reaching for his bangs and then he looked past the hand to see Lloyd’s curious face studying him.  “Daddy, wake up!” he said with a firm tug on Kratos’ bangs.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Kratos had replied sleepily.  Placing his palm on Lloyd’s forehead, he noticed that the fever was gone, and aside from a slightly runny nose, the toddler was fine.  Kratos had gleefully dropped Lloyd on Anna to wake her up, and she had been so relieved that Lloyd was okay that she decided to let Kratos slide for waking her up in such an unusual manner.

Little did Kratos know that fourteen years later, he’d be reliving the experience.  With a heavy heart, Kratos began to sing the Tethe’allan lullaby once more.  He didn’t think the song had magical properties, but if it made Lloyd’s final moments easier, Kratos would have done anything.  He would have taken the Eternal Sword and rearranged the entire universe if it meant saving his son.  The song came from deep within him, the words, despite being lost to the rest of the world, practically second nature to him.  When he finished, Kratos settled Lloyd on the bed once more and resumed his position on the chair.

When the seraphim woke the next morning, it was to someone gently shaking him.  “…tos?  Kratos?”

Sitting up, Kratos blinked to focus his eyes on Lloyd who was sitting up in bed and looking at him curiously.  “What…”

“What’s going on?” Lloyd asked.

Kratos looked around and saw that things were still in the same place they had been the night before.  They were still at the doctor’s house, but the ice in the bowl had melted, a clear indication of the passage of time.  “You fell ill with Umacy Fever.  The doctor was certain that you were going to die during the night,” he explained in a tired voice.  There were dark circles under his eyes, a clear indication of the stress from the last several days.

“Oh,” was all Lloyd could say.  “So why are you here?”

“I had the fever in my youth.  I’m the only one with an immunity to the disease and Professor Sage refused to leave you by yourself.  I volunteered to stay with you,” Kratos explained coolly.  He rose and stretched before addressing Lloyd once more.  “I’m going to tell the doctor to draw a bath for you, and then find the Professor and inform her of your recovery.”

The boy nodded.  “Okay.  And Kratos?”

The seraphim stopped and waited for Lloyd to continue.

“Thanks for staying with me,” he finished with a lopsided smile. 

“It was nothing,” Kratos answered gruffly, trying to mask the emotion in his voice.  He quickly made his exit and went to find Professor Sage and the others to tell them good news.  By mid afternoon they were headed for the next seal, at the Balacruf Mausoleum.  Lloyd was humming softly as he walked; humming the tune that Kratos had sang to him the night before. 

“Wow Lloyd, that’s a really pretty song,” Colette said suddenly, causing Lloyd to stop.  He looked at her quizzically, but said nothing.  “Are there words?”

“Er, I think so.  When I was sick I’m pretty sure I dreamed about my parents.  It’s a song that my dad used to sing to me when I couldn’t sleep,” Lloyd explained with a shrug.

“I didn’t take Dirk as the singing type,” Genis said thoughtfully.

“My real dad,” Lloyd clarified.

“Oh wow,” Colette breathed.  “Did you remember what they looked like?”

Kratos hadn’t even realized that he had gripped Noishe’s fur tightly until the arshis let out a sharp whine.  He apologized quietly to his old friend, which Noishe accepted with a lick to the hand.

“Nah.  They were like shadows,” Lloyd shrugged.  “Hazy forms.”

Relieved, Kratos continued walking, brushing past where Colette and Lloyd had stopped.  This was all for the best, the seraphim decided.  Lloyd didn’t need to know that his father was ultimately going to lead the Chosen to her death. 

Lloyd and Colette fell into step behind the mercenary, talking quietly amongst themselves.  Lloyd looked ahead to where Kratos was walking with Noishe and was hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia.  There was something familiar about that particular view of Kratos, but the teen couldn’t quite place it.  Shrugging it off, Lloyd began to ask Colette what she had done while he was ill.  But in his head, the mercenary’s strong, clear voice was singing a Tethe’allan lullaby.


End file.
